Strangers in an Unknown Land
by Nyrath
Summary: Following their second encounter with Fate Averruncus Negi and the others find themselves scatter across the Magical World. To make it through they're forced to rely on their skills, wits, and, just possibly, the kindness of strangers. Follows chapter 189
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All characters (except as detailed below), concepts and settings belong to Ken Akamatsu. I only own the story and the ideas for this fanfic.

**What I do own:** Amber and the, as yet anonymous, watcher.

**Nyrath:** Right, first foray into the realm of fanfiction. This story is going to be, mainly, about what follows the Gate Portal disaster. It'll follow characters who haven't as yet made an reappearance in the Manga since chapter 189, so there's a bit of a selection to choose from. I'll just have to see how many I get 'round to in the end. For now, just enjoy what's written thus far.

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**Chapter 1: Fortuna caeca est**

**Gate****Portal, Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus - 13****th**** of August**

Fate Averruncus was someone rather dangerous to underestimate, and without having seen him in action it was very easy to do so. But Negi Springfield and most of his companions had faced him in Kyoto and it was really on with the arrival of "The Dark Evangel" that they had made it. Now they had just faced off once more, but this time he hadn't been alone, he hadn't been just a projected construct, and they hadn't been able to rely on any form of Deus Ex Machina. They were lucky to be alive, but it seems like whatever designs Fate harboured had been fulfilled, and he wasn't finished with the group.

Forced translocation magic; nothing to tell them where they would end up. Barely had Negi called for them to try and join hands before most of them found controlled movement impossible, and then the spell took proper hold, and flung them across the world. Some were lucky enough to manage to grab others, or be grabbed by one of them. But most either didn't have the time to or simply couldn't manage to reach one of the others and would thus find themselves alone when they arrived at whatever place they were being sent.

**Unknown, Unknown, Unknown - ****13****th**** of August**

Someone is watching the events at the stone circled gate portal unfold, or at least had been watching up until Fate's immediate objective became clear. The view of the still unfolding events casts a constantly shifting light into the otherwise dark room, akin to a computer monitor or TV screen, but there's feeling that it's more like a one-side view window fitted straight into the occupied space. A feeling reinforced substantially as someone's arm passes through the view from behind the "camera", a sight that probably only a hardcore student of anatomy would appreciate, anyone else would likely find their last meal making an escape through the wrong passage.

What it illuminates is a mostly bare room with indistinct borders, the walls lost in the dark. At the edge of what the light reveals a small, loose pile of furniture can be glimpsed. It looks like a leather recliner, a footrest, and perhaps a small table or two thrown haphazardly and likely hurriedly, to the side to clear some space. And in that space where the furniture had stood now stands a figure draped in a classic mage robe, the hood of the robe obscures his, or perhaps her, though in that case she's not overly well endowed, features.

Though he, for that can work as a default assumption for now, doesn't stand still gazing at the goings on but is rather twisting and twirling, hands conjuring and manipulating various arcane sigils and marks. Among these glowing designs hanging in mid air can be found, amongst other things, a few Western style, Hermetic, pentagrams can be seen, a few of the markings in each circle are changed before they are sent to the background. A large circle moves into place instead, it looks like a cross-section of a Russian doll seen from above with concentric smaller circles found within the largest, and upon closer inspection reveals each circle to contain more circles; these with flowing script of some sort filling them in a, yet again, circular manner.

As the hands, slender ones with tight black gloves on, dart back and forth over and amongst the mystical designs they twist and alter them. Adding, erasing, replacing, and rearranging the words, runes, and other components that make up the various circles, scrolls, and spirals. The only, brief, pause in this frantic flurry of movement comes as Fate tells his companion to use a Force Translocation spell on his opponents. At this point the robed one raises his right hand, and with a flick of the wrist causes the view "screen" to fracture into a dozen or more pieces that fan out and form a circle around him, each growing and shaping itself into a replica of the original.

But these new windows don't retain the original view, only the one still hovering in the same place as that one does, but rather each shows a view of a seemingly random location in the world. A couple show what seems to be tropical jungle, another pair show an altogether more frigid landscape, then there's desert, forest, cityscape, and more. As the first "screen" shows the spell seriously starting up the gloved hands begin the fling the various pentagrams, runic spirals, and mystic circles at the windows.

As the various magically charged designs touch the "screens" they adhere to them, and change them. Several views become rather similar to others, at least four seem to show the same spot from only slightly different angles. Then as the forced translocation magic surges to its peak the robed figure is enveloped in a seemingly sympathetic surge of magical energy. Light streams forth from beneath the hood, through the sleeves, and every other opening it can find in the garment. This luminous energy seems to be absorbed by the numerous designs; runes, sigils, and letters blaze with arcane energy before fading away as both the spell and the flood of light abates.

When the last mystic seal has faded away to nothing the figure groggily looks at the various windows, each of them now also showing at least one individual. But not all of the locations have gone unchanged from when the sigils were attached, some of them show new areas not previously shown while one, perhaps two, have reverted completely. He sighs and with the sweep of a robed arm sends the windows spiralling outwards a bit, revealing more of the bare stone floor. Out of the darkness, now a fair bit further away, rolls what looks like a smooth cylindrical plinth of white marble.

This small pillar stops a few feet from the robed watcher and pulls itself into an upright position seemingly on its own. Out of his voluminous garment the watcher pulls out a circular board for what looks like it might be a complex variant of chess. Placing it unto the cylinder the mage checks its alignment to the "screens", twists it slightly, and then begins to place individual figures on the large grid net, pulling them out of his sleeves and examining them before setting them down, seemingly randomly. With this completed, he seems to vanish, a knowledgeable observer would likely suspect something like Instant Movement masterfully pulled off.

**Lake of Blood, ****Unknown, Unknown - Unknown**

Just why does it seem like every night's sleep happens to include a dream with blood prevalent? At least she hopes this was a dream. She really wishes there was more than one simple answer to that question whether this was a dream or not. Of course there was a simple answer, but since it actually manages to explain nothing while being utterly accurate it wasn't much use. It's a simple fact of life that the simplest and most answer to most questions; "Because", has a tendency to yield the question of "Because what?" or something similar. Still, standing in a _lake_ of blood, a shallow lake but still a lake, is a bit beyond what else she could recall having dreamed about, and certainly seems a bit over the top for reality, so it _probably_ is a dream.

In any case it would probably be a good idea to get straightened up, but her hands seem to be caught in something under the surface of the opaque liquid. Whatever it is it's yielding to a point, slightly elastic, and doing a mighty fine job trapping her hands. Bracing herself against the lake bottom, which too seems, now that she thinks about it, to be somewhat yielding, she tries to rip out her fingers sideways. No success with that however, perhaps if she tries to lift it out of lake itself so that she can actually see what is holding her fingers in place?

Shifting her weight slightly for the new task she bends her knees to lift, spraining her back isn't desirable after all. Funny, she hadn't noticed that she wasn't wearing anything up till now, but with the lukewarm blood up well past her knees it's a bit hard _not_ to notice. Whatever, if she doesn't get free modesty is among the least of her worries. With a bit of effort she feels that whatever is holding her fingers down below the opaque surface is coming up.

That which emerges from below the crimson surface of the lake makes her very glad that she isn't particularly prone to feeling queasy, that she's even possible to describe as slightly jaded in that respect, but finding that fingers are caught in the mangled and torn throat of some guy does manage to unsettle her. For a moment she stands slightly stunned as the red liquid runs and drips of the features of the young man whose limp form she's holding.

There's a nagging feeling she should recognise him from somewhere, and then a cold recollection surfaces, both alien and familiar at the same time; this was her son. Her first-born son at that, and she hadn't even known if she had _any_ family up till that moment. There's a rather natural response to a situation like this, one she hadn't followed just a few moments ago when most would have done so. Now she does; she screams at the top of her lungs.

**The Amber Cave****s, Far North of Megalo-Mesembria - 13****th**** of August**

The dreamer awakens with a start, the scream still in her throat, though the moment realisation regarding her location dawns on her it dies. Or at least it dies in _her_ throat, for just as the echo of it begins to fade another one breaks the not-quite-silence. It's of a pitch which meant that if the originator is a man he's likely embarrassed, i.e. high and feminine, and coming from outside of her somewhat rustic dwelling; which is a nice way to describe something which is basically a barely furnished cave.

_A little earlier_

Miyazaki Nodoka had just found herself alone, with nothing in the way of supplies apart from her clothes and pactio card, on a stone in the middle of a stream, and to top it all of it was snowing; to be short it was a bit of a predicament. Dithering over what to do was only feasible for so long, cursing the situation would have been even less fruitful but Nodoka wasn't one to do that. Without anyone else around she simply had to try and fall back on herself and what she could dig out of her memory.

She couldn't see any signs of people around from her perch in the river; which meant there was quite likely _no_ help to be found even from strangers. Trees grew on both sides of the river, but apparently far sparser on the left bank, which was also the closest both to her position and the mountainside. The evergreens and chilly weather brought her thoughts to what she'd read of the wilds of northern Europe and North America. If that was anything to go by it might very well be dangerous to head into the woods alone and without anything to actually defend oneself with, and given that this was likely somewhere within the Magical World the wildlife was likely a good deal more dangerous than what could be found back on Earth.

But the fact that her clothes, robe or not, wouldn't do much to keep her warm if she keeps on standing in an exposed location being subjected to both wind and water. A wet body cools down a lot faster than a dry one, and the wind carries heat away from the body as well. So while heading off into the unknown was dangerous, possibly deadly so, staying put would mean a certain death and likely sooner as well. So first order of business would be to get ashore, anything else would have to wait until then.

The few possible stepping stones leading to the closest shore seemed rather slippery, but they were the only feasible way there. Then again the training and her position in the Library Expedition Club meant she wasn't nearly as inept when it came to physically strenuous activity as one might expect of a bookworm. So the first step went well and while she nearly slipped on the second one it wasn't until the third one that any real trouble manifested itself. The young card bearer was startled when someone or something screamed nearby and thus she slipped and fell into icy water, screaming herself both from the shock and instinctive fear of the fall itself and from hitting her back on the rocks.

So now she's struggling against the current, trying her best to get to the shore, or at least to stop the stream carrying her too far. But it quickly starts to feel hopeless with the voluminous mage robe she'd been given early this morning dragging her along, and just ahead she glimpsed a rather nasty looking outcropping of rock. It feels like she is taking in nearly as much water as air whenever she gasped for breath and her now thoroughly soaked clothes are beginning to seem like they're filled with lead. Tossed around by a shift in the current the timid librarian sees someone dashing towards her, a glimpse of copper-ish hair, and then the world fades as her head connects with the outcropping.

When she came to again Nodoka didn't know how much time had passed, but that's not much of problem when considering that she for a moment had really started to believe that death was near. It hurts to move much, but at least the sore girl manages to shift her head enough to look around at least a little. Apparently she's lying in a cave mostly furnished with furs of varying descriptions, with a cosy fire blazing in a floor depression about a metre and a half away from her. Sitting nearby sits a woman clad in furs and leathers with, yes she'd seen right, copper hued hair vigorously grinding something using a stone mortar and pestle.

'**Thank you.'**

Miyazaki manages to at least say that much, though right now it isn't all that easy since she's got problems lifting her head high enough to move her jaw without banging her chin against the floor. Her rescuer looks up from her work, a look of incomprehension on her face. Seeing this the bruised librarian decides to have a go with her grasp of English instead since it seems that the woman doesn't speak Japanese.

'Thank you.' Now the rugged looking lady seems to understand what she's saying and gives a faint smile.

'No problem.' she replies with a faint smile 'It's good that you're awake, I'm about to try and do something about that back injury of yours.'

Having said this much the woman stands up, walks over, and sits down next to Nodoka were she can't see her, but since the battered young girl has just noticed something behind the spot where her saviour recently sat that's pushed aside for the moment at least.

It's her clothes, all of her clothes, including her underwear, lying there stretched out and drying in the heat of the fire. She must have been to numb and bruised when she woke up to notice it but now that her clothes are lying there in plain view she can't help but realise that there isn't actually anything between her skin and the furs wrapped around her. If it isn't for the fact that her face is already flush from the temperature change the blush the librarian now has would be much more noticeable.

Then she heard something which pushed even this most embarrassing fact from the fore of her mind. It's the _"klak"_ of a knife being drawn from a stiff sheath, and then the fur covering her back is flipped over exposing it to the somewhat chilly air. And, she can't help but think, removing anything which might impede a knife thrust. In this kind of situation a lot of not particularly pleasant scenarios tend to play themselves out in ones mind in quick succession, and Nodoka isn't an exception at the moment.

A grunt from the fur dressed woman sends the train of thought spiralling away into territory best left unexplored, then the clatter of the knife on the stone floor of cave sends it pinballing all over the place. The soft patter from multiple drops of some liquid on stone is something the exposed young girl only hears over the crackling of the fire because she's straining her ears for the slightest hint of what's to come whilst trying to rein in her careening imagination.

Then quite suddenly she feels like someone is drawing on her back, right where it had struck the rock as she fell. The medium seems to be a thin paste, or quite thick liquid, about as warm as her body at this point, and for a stencil it feels like something the size an index finger, which means it probably is just that. It is over quickly though, or at least she can't feel it anymore as a new sensation thunders in.

It reminds the young librarian of when Negi-sensei activated her contract, but concentrated around the area around her injury. There's some magical energy poured into the rest of her body as well, but its clear to her that most of it is to be found around the area where the woman was drawing on her back. And then after just sitting around for a few moments the power boost ups and leaves through the back, and it drags her own, in her mind, unimpressive reserves of mana with it.

She feels drained and tired, far more so than when she woke up. But, and as she realises this the young girl is pleasantly surprised, she's not even remotely as bruised as before; perhaps still a little sore in the back but otherwise at least seemingly fine. Her furclad rescuer however suddenly doesn't seem to be as fresh as before, that load groan says as much. Flipping over, while taking care to cover her front, Nodoka sees the woman stagger by behind her.

Blood drips from her left hand leaving a bright trail behind her as the currently stooped woman wobbles slightly on her way. Blood can be glimpsed within the mortar used earlier, and on the blade of the knife, Nodoka doesn't find it hard to put two and two together as to what had been used on her back; the woman had somehow used her own blood to heal the damage. She found it somewhat off-putting, but was nonetheless grateful, and found it oddly reassuring; someone literally willing to shed ones own blood for the wellbeing of a stranger wasn't at all likely to just leave her out here.

'Um, thank you again.' She says while sitting up, still careful to keep herself covered with the furs she was lying on.

'And again, no problem. I'm merely doing what I feel is right.' Replies the copper haired woman before straightening out her back, a rather noticeable _"crack"_ is heard. 'Ah, that's better. Now, it would probably be best for you to get dressed while clean the cut. Your clothes ought to be dry by now.' With that she turned away and crouched down, picking up a water skin and started to wash her left hand clean.

Miyazaki notes that she's been given at least a small measure of privacy so she hurries to get her clothes back onto her body. Her checks are burning as she realises just how much her rescuer likely saw before she woke up. When the now mostly dressed young girl picks up her robe, even this garment seems to be at least almost completely dry, a small rectangle falls out of its inner folds. Snatching it up quickly Nodoka is relieved to see that her precious pactio card wasn't lost back at the river.

'Um, Onee-san, may I know your name?' The woman is still for a moment after hearing the question, and then she turns and looks at the now robed girl. She's twiddling with something hanging in a leather cord from her neck as she answers.

'I'm not certain whether it's actually correct or not but most people call me Amber.' The thing she's been fiddling with can be seen through the fingers of her right hand; it's an impressive piece of amber.

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**Nyrath:** And here seems to be where my pen dried up… Just kidding, I felt like cutting there. There's more coming along of course, and I'll be broadening the cast in use starting with the next chapter. I've got stuff more or less ironed out for the next couple of chapters, and ideas and parts for another half-dozen at least, but any suggestions regarding what characters you want to see are welcome.

_**Latin translations**_

Fortuna caeca est – Fortune is blind

Mundus Magicus – The Magical World


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters (except as detailed below), concepts and settings belong to Ken Akamatsu

**Disclaimer:** All characters (except as detailed below), concepts and settings belong to Ken Akamatsu. I only own the story and the ideas for this fanfic.

**What I do own:** Amber, Rachel, the feathered figure, "Rose" and his lady, and the, as yet anonymous, watcher… …You know what, it might be easier to point out that which belongs to neither Ken Akamatsu or me, and as yet there's none of that which has made it into the story.

**Nyrath:** Well, here's the second chapter. It's taken longer than I expected, a lot longer, though it did end up a little longer than I expected, and I've got stuff written for at least parts of several chapters to come.

**Notes:** Since I'm stupid enough, or careless enough (you pick), to plot out, tap into is probably more correct, a story involving a globe spanning quest with widely diverse OCs coming in from right, left, and centre I'm ending up with a lot of different languages spoken. And since I'm not about to inflict poor un-translated speech on you all, and even if I could get my hands on someone who'd care to provide good translation for whatever pieces of refuse I'd want hidden by a flimsy language barrier I do think it would be unfair for you dear reader (I know there's at least one of you bored enough to bother trawling through this for a glimmer of a chance at seeing a worthwhile paragraph) to deprive you of more of your time in order to drag out a translation program from somewhere on the web for a half-decent glimpse of said compost's contents I've opted to use the below shown means of denoting what language the unfortunate wretches (though some characters can't be described thusly) who find themselves pressured into service for my story are speaking at the time. And with this said I'd like to add two things regarding the past sentence, it's the longest you'll find in story thus far, and I managed to nail down a gross of words within its confines. …I have no idea why I've bothered to tell you that.

'Japanese, or just miscellaneous'

'**English**'

'French'

_Thoughts or Emphasis, not counting the first sentence proper of the chapter_

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**Chapter 2****: Plus vident óculi quam óculus**

**The Amber Caves****, Mundus Magicus – 13****th**** of August**

"_**I'm not certain whether it's actually correct or not but most people call me Amber.**" _

Miyazaki Nodoka stands stunned for a moment as the implication of the answer runs around inside her head along with possibly explanations. _Has she simply gone so long without company she'd forgotten her own name? Or has she lost her memory from some accident? Or perhaps someone intentionally excised it from Amber-san's memory? If so why? And was there anything she could do to help?_ It was about here that the librarian realised that Amber was addressing her.

'**...me yours**' Is all she catches as she emerges from her thoughts. Startled, she snaps her eyes up and meets the older woman's gaze for a moment before diverting her eyes.

'**Um, er, could you say that again?**' The reddish haired woman simply shrugs and complies though she uses a slightly different wording this time round.

'**I was wondering if, since you now know what I am called, I might get to know your name.**' As she speaks the fur and leather clad woman begins to clean up the tools involved in her healing the girl's back. The bloodstained knife is the first to be cleaned, and quite quickly at that.

'**Miyazaki Nodoka.**' the purple haired librarian replies after a moment's thought. Another few moments later she ventures to speak again as the grey-eyed woman returns the knife to its sheath. 'Um, may I ask a question?'

'**Apart from the one you just used? Sure, as long as I can get to ask one or two in return.**' Answers Amber as she starts to try and clean out the stone mortar, a slightly more difficult prospect than the knife.

'**So, um, Amber-san, just where are we?**' The robed girl throws a meaningful glance and arm sweep over towards the cave opening as she poses her question, the motion makes the poor girl dizzy since she hasn't yet recovered from her exhaustion. Clutching her temple the young lady sways for a moment before she manages to steady herself against a wall.

'**Careful there, you'll be more than just a little tired until your mystical reserves have replenished. You'd better sit down for now.**' Cautions the older female upon seeing this, then she goes ahead and provides an answer. '**The Amber Caves, about a day-and-a half from White Wolf Bluff. Don't rightfully know whether or not that helps, but anything else and I'll need to look up a map since my memory isn't all that reliable on its own unfortunately.**'

'**That's… sad to hear**.' As Amber gives her reply the trainee mage goes ahead and follows her advice; sitting down on the fur covered floor with her back to the somewhat rough stone wall. '**Um, have you seen anyone else around?**' Nodoka makes a second question, hoping against probability that someone else from the White Wings might be around.

'**No, you're the first one other person I've seen up here in over a month, and you didn't look all that well prepared for the area when I fished you out of the river. Even though it's been usually warm around here this year that just means it's been as much as 10 degrees over freezing during certain days, it's still dangerously cold at night, and then there's wildlife. Heh, why am I rambling on like this? Anyway, my second question; I noticed you've got a Pactio Card, may I take a closer look.**'

The rough-leather wearing woman seems to start packing up as she talks; bundling up a couple of furs, filling a leather rucksack with what looks like dried meat and a few packets of what's presumably seasonings of some sort, and so on. As she actually posses her question she happens to stop close to the younger female.

'**…Okay.**' The purple haired youth hesitates for a few moments before answering, and then spends a few moments fishing out the card, looking at it herself for a moment or two, before handing it over to the inquisitive hostess. The lady in question looks over the offered card quite closely, a few times tracing her finger along some feature or another which Nodoka can't see since she's sitting facing the copper-haired one rather than next to her. After looking over the card for a couple of moments Amber starts to speak.

'**Hmm, well first of all I suppose I might as well tell you that I was considering using that as my first question since it'd kill two birds with one stone; but that'd be a bit rude as well. Now, as for what this tells us. The number twenty-seven doesn't tell me anything, the source for the numbering on these cards shift to much for me to have a go at it. Your greatest virtue would seem to be courage. You're a librarian or at least closely associated with that role. And, do correct me if I'm mistaken, your artifact seems to be your _diary_ of all things. Well, I do have one piece of good news for you; your mage is still alive at the very least**.'

The young librarian didn't quite grasp what she was being told, her exhaustion was making itself known quite forcefully, but the final line hits home well enough for her to be at least moderately aware for a short while. It also lifts a weight of her shoulders and heart that she hadn't realised had been there; Negi-sensei is alive and quite likely safe, or at least in a situation he'd be able to handle with relative ease. But just moments later another weight descends on her, one she is fully aware of as it materialises; _what about the others?_ Most of all she becomes concerned for the welfare of Yue, Anya, Konoka and the others who aren't actual combatants as well as Makie and the other girls who had no prior knowledge or proper experience of magic.

Still, her body points out to her mind that it isn't going to be able to do anything about it without sleeping for a bit, preferably within the next few moments. She's barely coherent enough to grasp and safely tuck away her card when the magical little rectangle is offered back to her. The last thing she sees before drifting off to sleep is her somewhat feral looking saviour add to her savage appearance through donning a great, white wolf-skin cloak.

**Darkened Chamber, Unknown, Presumably Mundus Magicus –**** 13****th**** of August**

There was something that might be called an audible silence in the large chamber, a silence caused by a number of people just having finished their mad scramble to find a way to use an unexpected development to further their own goals and now waited for the next shoe to drop. The only sound present was that of shuffling cards originating from one of the seats by the imposing circular table. In a room whose occupants seemed to value their anonymity to such a degree that the only differences were the few variations in the forms of their high-backed chairs and various, often singular, items denoting occupied seats the shuffler stands out by even having an identifiable gender. Not much could be said to describe her given the lighting; only her hands could be seen with any real clarity, though these could be described as elegant as they deftly shuffled, stacked, and reshuffled the cards.

After such time has passed that the deck shouldn't possibly need more shuffling another sound enters the chamber; that of someone in hard soled footwear walking across a stone floor. As whoever is the cause of this starts to draw near the lady finally stops shuffling her cards and as they become infused with a glow common to a number of magical artefacts she pulls forth several cards in rapid succession. After the fifth card the deck looses its glow and she spreads the ones she's already drawn out in front of her on the illuminated table. There is no further movement or sound at the table except the approaching footsteps, until they stop and a hand clad in a tight black glove reaches out from one of the previously unoccupied seats and places an elaborately carved and aged looking chess piece on the table.

'Ah, Chess,' One of the anonymous ones says as the robed arm is withdrawn. 'I was beginning to wonder whether or not you would show up. In fact I was starting to think that this might be one of those rare times when you don't even show up. Not that you tend to do all that much when you're here anyway.'

'Quality, not quantity, tends to do well enough for me Master Cards.' The one identified as Chess replies, and indeed the one who first spoke has a set of actually quite ordinary playing cards as his marker.

'Whatever the case you don't do anything other than talk. None of us have ever traced _anything_ back to you.' Another one puts in, this one represented by something as odd as a small pewter top hat.

'Monopoly, I know you have only held your seat for hardly eighteen months but even you should know that there are two ways to interpret that piece of information.' Chess returns in an even and polite voice.

'Now then, I take it that everyone has finished their hasty, and quite likely unseemly so, scramble to try and utilise the aftermath of Fate's actions to further your own goals?'

**Strong Wall Inn, ****The Chimeric Woods, Mundus Magicus – 13****th**** of August**

The Strong Wall Inn, a place that has withstood the centuries well and weathered significant conflicts practically unharmed. This is mostly due to its location and the nature of its clientele, and, of course, it's name giving strong construction. The Chimeric Woods have been widely known as something of a proving ground for at least as long as the Inn had stood in the area, and also as a potential goldmine for those with the luck and wits to back up their brawn. Hidden treasures are naturally rumoured to be out there, left by one of the many "less than sane" mages who'd lived there at one time or another, or hidden by those who sought to utilise the local wildlife as guardians for it.

It is a place which has a local "normality" which isn't quite, in fact, normal. On average a resident, regardless of length of tenure, would have on hand, even in the common rooms, 1.7 weapons of some sort, and keep a further 2.4 in his room, not counting anything from Pactios. Prominent scars averages 1.3, facial ones .4, near fatal ones a mere 0.1; anything out in the wilderness around here which doesn't actually finish you off does so because someone's done it in first. With an average population nearly reaching triple digits, of which it should be evident almost everyone can fight to some extent, it's an informal fortress as much as an inn. And like a fortress it's got lookouts, though here they're certainly a lot more informal and generally more ad-hoc than one would think possible in an actual one.

'My my, look at that.' One of these lookouts, who's main distinguishing feature would have to the tattooed roses on his cheeks, one nearly black and the other white, says to himself as he spots something on the road. With a push of a button he begins to relay a spot of information to what currently might be said to pass for central command; the main common room with its bar. 'Hey folks, we've got a pair of travellers inbound along the south road. You've got maybe ten-fifteen minutes to set up the betting pool. Noticeable features as follows here. Firstly a tall gent dressed in a black coat and wide brimmed hat of the same colour, riding a dark brown horse. Secondly black haired, bronze skinned lass dressed in what looks like reptile skin. She's got some sort of bladed weapon over her back; I can see little more than the handle from this angle. Also on horseback, a black horse in case anyone cares. Finally, put me down for five on them being after someone or something specific rather than just proving their mettle; it's not much but it'll feel sweet if I'm right.'

'Rose dear' says the lady also present on the roof as she looks over the rampart 'it's Rachel.'

'You're likely right. I don't think we've seen the gent before though. Have you got any idea why she's bothering with a horse?' Asks the man who, for better or worse, is called "Rose" for rather obvious reasons.

'Let's just ask her on that point once she's actually inside.' Replies the brown haired woman before picking up the book she'd been reading as well as an iron staff that had been leaning against the back of the chair she'd been using. With her present belongings gathered the slight woman heads to the stairwell while her male friend shrugs and collects the spread out cards he'd been busying himself with earlier before following.

**Wilderness surrounding Hecate, Elysium Continent, Mundus Magicus – 13****th**** of August **

In the arid wilderness south of the town of Hecate a small creature crests a small rise and spots a group of four seemingly lost travellers low on provisions. The being might be described as slightly impish in appearance, and given its actual demonic origins it isn't too far off, but also as chameleonic in both nature and appearance as it blends it well with the dusty surface. It scurries forward slightly just behind the top of the rise so as to get alongside the wanderers, evidently it intends to follow them, for whatever reasons it might have.

As it gets a glimpse of one of the lady traveller's face a flash of recognition finds itself to its eyes, it has seen them before somewhere, or at least their image. Hastening forward slightly it stops in the shadow of a rock outcropping. Focussing for a few moments on the ground in front of it as it carefully draws a small pentagram in order to perform some magical act or another the small demon hardly even has time to be surprised as ten or so inches of razor-sharp cold steel punches through its ribcage from behind before slicing upwards as if to try and cleave its head in two from below.

The practically instantly "dead" creature topples forward, sliding of the blade before the cut gets further than its neck. As the little demonic scout or spy dissolves its killer slides the instrument of death back into its sheath, a quiet click signals that the blade is once more secured within the mechanical looking arm, ready to be deployed at a moments notice. The humanoid sweeps a masterfully camouflaged cloak around it as it sneaks off to continue its own surveillance of the girls now that this little bit of competition is out of the way.

**Kerberas Forest, Elysium Continent, Mundus Magicus –**** 13****th**** of August**

The Kerberas Forest, a vast expanse of lush, tropical, and, naturally, monster infested woodland. No real settlements, no actually recorded long-term habitation, little in the way of conventional magic communication possible due to the nature of the geography. In many ways it's a place where it's easy to get lost, to disappear. Not too surprising then that four of the people making up the White Wings got relocated to various parts of this wilderness. For the first three of them the location they now find themselves in all that dangerous by itself, though one of them has yet to regain consciousness, but the fourth could easily be said to be in a bit of trouble.

The individual in question happens to be arguing with her diminutive, floating, oddly mouse-like companions. Her sole observer at the moment can't make out quite what is being said, he's too focused on making sure nothing else notices the exchange. Just as the figure, sitting perched in the jungle canopy, seems to consider the precautionary wards erected sufficient he notices that the young one has started moving again; this time heading towards the nearest settlement. The high flung figure simply shrugs, which produces a rustle from its feathery mane, and seems to smile as it moves off to keep slightly ahead of the group below; looks like it might be an interesting few days.

**Darkened Chamber, Unknown, Presumably Mundus Magicus – 13****th**** of August**

The concealed and seated form of "Chess" somehow manages to give an impression of smiling; just how this is possible without showing anything of the face isn't clear. 'But as it happens I do believe that our dear Lady Tarot has just gotten a revelation through her favoured medium which just might shake things up once more.'

The Lady Tarot sweeps up two of the cards in front of her and holds them up for the others to see as she speaks. 'You have managed to interfere with the translocation spell Master Chess.' The first of the two cards held aloft shows a simple pentagram set against a swirling background of many colours, and the other shows a king seated upon his throne with a sword across his lap carved from aged ivory set against a simple black and white chequered background; the figure is identical to the one Chess is using as a marker.

The following silence, while heavy, doesn't last very long before it is broken by one those who've stayed silent thus far; a seat marked by a pair of simple six-sided dice. 'For you to do something so, relatively, easily traced there must be something major at stake my good Master Chess. Pray, would you mind telling us what that something is?'

'Why, the next game of course, my dear Master Dice.'

'Heh, as ever it is, but perhaps I should rephrase that question. Would you care to give an estimate of how much of an impact, in your mind, this might have?'

'Well, I will not say all that much about it but one of them has a mostly untapped potential exceeding that of Padmasambhava.'

'…I see.'

'So you understand something of why I am getting involved.' Here the seemingly ever polite Master Chess raises his voice for the first time during this meeting. 'Know that I have seen many upheavals in this cabal while I have maintained my seat, I say now that another such one is even now beginning to unfold. At the end of it the nature and membership of our congregation will have changed, but it will have endured as it has always done.

Know also that I will not stand idly by this time as you make your moves to strengthen yourselves, so often at the expense of the world around you. I could care less for the world, but this time I have personal stakes in this. And I _will_ fight to ensure those make it through.'

His speech completed Chess simply seems to fade away, taking the antique looking king piece with him as he leaves the others to make what they may out of his words.

**The Chimeric Woods, Mundus Magicus ****– 13****th**** of August **

Things could certainly be a lot better in Sakurazaki Setsuna's mind, but then again it could be a lot worse as well; she could have ended up separated from Konoka-ojou-sama. As it were she'd managed to use her wings to reach her precious charge when it became clear that whatever magic it was Averruncus' group was deploying wasn't going to be stopped. Arrival had been slightly bumpy, and she'd likely have a slight bruise or two despite her Ki-shield, but such petty things would have to wait until the Konoe heiress was safe and sound.

Which she wouldn't be here, that much is certain following a quick look around the clearing they pair of them had landed in; a somewhat gnawed looking human skull hardly indicates safety. Luckily Kono-chan hasn't seen it yet, and with a bit more luck she won't have to; she still hasn't recovered from the massive drain of the healing she did on Negi-Sensei. Is that smoke on the horizon? Why yes, it seems to be from a small controlled fire as well and not a forest fire. Standing up she can just make out the top of a fairly large fortified compound made from stone in a manner more reminiscent of Europe than Japan.

Well, whoever is there is likely to be more welcoming than whatever is behind the bones up here in the clearing. And if they're not she would be able to get them away safely, or likely defeat whoever wished them harm. So, it's simply a matter of spreading my wings and flying down there. Huh, there's something coming out the-

'Aaah!' Something has just cut into the left wing potentially causing serious injury. But the pain is drowned out as endorphins and adrenaline floods flows into her system as ancient natural instincts flips all switches available to increase survivability even as more recent, trained instincts cut in as she sidestepped the next slashing attack spun in place and counterattacked so fast she didn't even notice the insect-like nature of her attacker until he (it?) was already flying through the air with a crushed thorax due to an impressive barehanded strike.

Now as a result of both training and instinct her mind abandoned thinking in words for the moment and switched to the much faster method of snap-shot images as it rushed to get a grip on the situation before anything else could happen. _Left wing crippled, flying not an option. Konoka still unconscious will have to carry her. Multiple opponents in the woods need to fight or run. Enemy fast, fighting would put Konoka at greater risk than running. Running it is. Scoop up Konoka, hold her securely, and head for the smoke._ So quickly was decision reached and acted upon that the stricken attacker hadn't even landed before the half-demon was off and away, pumping her powerful leg muscles in an effort use the extra speed granted by the adrenaline boost to get some distance between herself, her charge and the creatures now in hot pursuit.

As her mind slowed down slightly after the initial surge two words crept in amongst the mass of snapshot images being processed in order to move as quickly as possibly though the woods._ Not. Good._

* * *

_**T**__**ranslations, Latin or otherwise**_

Plus vident óculi quam óculus – several eyes see more than one

Mundus Magicus – The Magical World

Padmasambhava – "The Lotus Born"

* * *

**Nyrath:** That's another chapter down, and I will strive to complete and post the next one before the end of the month rather than sometime in the next quarter. Reviews, whether with more than a paragraph or not are welcome and will likely help ensure I manage to keep my word about the speed of delivery pertaining to the next chapter.

* * *

Might as well give some response to those who have bothered to review my work.

**Tikigod784:** Yes, the plot does thicken, and will continue to do so for a bit longer.

**Teller of Chronicles:** And I look forward to actually assembling more of it.

**The Ansem Man:** Ah, thank you for the praise. It does me good to know what I write is appreciated. I can understand if the landscape descriptions might seem a bit on the long side for some, but as you say it might be a thing of personal taste. On the subject of diverging from the Manga, I'll try to avoid it for the most part, but there's gaps which I can happily fill in at the moment. Some divergence is going to occur naturally since I started working on this back in December and have gotten a fair bit of stuff either planned or written down, parts of which quite noticeably might end up breaking with the Manga continuity. So, I'll just have too see how far it goes in either direction, parts of this seems to write itself at times.


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